Utopia Is Gone
by Impetuous257
Summary: Sequel to Chaos Precipitate, the Romulans are back with a vengeance as Phlox discovers a cure. What will be Earths fate?
1. Chapter 1

T'pol lay still, on the bridge of consciousness, vaguely processing her name being called. She lay there a minute longer before her Vulcan instincts roused her, recognizing the call of duty. "Sub-Commander, it is imperative that you wake." As her eyes opened a crack, she immediately tensed up, but found herself restrained on the bio-bed, looking into the Denobulans face as her memories surged through her mind. "Sub-Commander I deeply regret what I did to you, but I'm afraid we have more pressing matters to attend to." He paused, gauging her reaction. "You may believe me insane if you wish, but all I ask for is your cooperation, now, I am going to undo your restraints. Okay?" She nodded weakly, too depleted to formulate a verbal response. As the locks were opened one by one, she tested her movement, rotating her arm slowly while she swung her legs over the side. Attempting to walk however, she found her coordination and balance severely impaired, she stumbled. Caught on the arm by Dr. Phlox, T'pol felt her eyelids drooping. She tried desperately to hold on to consciousness, but ended up back on the bio-bed as her muscles fell limp.

Phlox found himself in one of the few times he had ever cursed. Strings of obscenities flowed off his tongue before he finally calmed himself, it wouldn't help the situation, he grudgingly admitted. It was too risky to risk using a stimulant on the Sub-Commander, however without her assistance his plan would be nothing but paper and pencil marks. Perhaps Commander Tucker? No, that definitely wasn't a good idea, Phlox had no idea if his theoretical cure would affect the young human. But with little choice left, he supposed he did need to check the results of his "cure" anyhow. Pressing the hypo-spray into the human's neck, the simulant took a few seconds to take effect. The Commanders reaction was strikingly similar to that of the Sub-Commander. As his eyelids slowly opened, he instinctively recoiled at the sight of the Denobulan, cursing loudly. Phlox waited until Tucker was done pulling at his restraints, lost in semi-conscious panic. When he finally did give up, it was to look with apprehension at the doctor, regarding him in a remarkably calm manner, Phlox was pleased to note. Perhaps his unorthodox method had actually accomplished its goal, in recovering the sanity of this human. Filled with newfound jubilance, Phlox wasted no time in getting to the point. "Commander, it is imperative that you listen to me, the Sub-Commanders health depends on it". It wasn't a complete lie, and he definitely had his attention now.

It was kinda fuzzy, Trips memory that is. He could remember the actions well enough, but the thought processes were completely beyond him. It seemed as if someone else was in control of his body, and his mind had been off smoking weed somewhere. And on top of that, he had what he was pretty sure was a crazy doctor restraining him and T'pol. It was strange though, the Denobulan didn't look or act like he was presently insane. But the memories of their last encounter, still fresh in his mind, sent a chill down his spine. Of course that had been before everything got fuzzy, and currently he wasn't exactly sure how he got to be in this position. Trips attention snapped back to Phlox at his words about T'pol's health, had that been a threat? Was he extorting him? Any whims of giving Phlox a piece of his mind instantly vanished, he would do whatever he wanted as long as he didn't hurt T'pol. He couldn't let him hurt T'pol. Trip wasn't sure why these emotions were so strong, along with a severe protective instinct which he knew in the deep recesses of his mind shouldn't be there. But he didn't have time to think about that, he had to figure out what the hell was going on. And he'd be damned if he wouldn't get himself and T'pol, definitely T'pol, out this god forsaken mess.


	2. Chapter 2

T'pol's second waking was much more coherent, she woke, this time unrestrained. Either the Doctor had forgotten her or he just didn't consider her a threat. Of course it was also possible he had some foul deception in mind. Not ruling anything out, she raised herself off the bio-bed, observing the Denobulan as he leaned over the Commander. Adrenaline coursed through her as she leapt at the doctor, being careful to hold his hands away from her, not sparing much of her superior strength.

Phlox let out a scream as the bones in both his wrists instantly snapped, while T'pol continued to clench with her hands, eliciting blood curling shrieks from the Denobulan.

"T'pol! No! Stop it!"

Paying no mind to the obviously delirious Commander, she threw Phlox to the floor. As she advanced on him her mind was filled with images of bloodlust. How she would torture the Denobulan, make him pay for _daring_ to harm her. He would wish he had never underestimated her, and he never would again, she thought with twisted glee.

Trip saw T'pol advance on the doctor, whimpering and clutching at his wrists as he lay on the ground, curled in a fetal position. "T'pol!" He staggered up off the bio-bed, stumbling, trying to keep his footing as he swayed, nauseous. "T'pol! He's helping us! Please listen to me!" She paused, turning to face him. The look on her face was fucking scary, her eyes gleamed with unrestrained emotion, all the while she had a demented smirk which definitely didn't belong on her face. His vision blurred, falling to his knee he tried again, he had to try.

T'pol felt her last vestiges of control, slowly gaining in strength as she observed Trip. He was on his knees, grasping the side of the bed for what little support he had. He was on the ground, begging her to stop, to listen to him, and she did. And then, as the tiny amount of control she still had asserted itself, then did she fully realize her actions. For a fleeting moment she had perfect clarity, perfect objectivity, before it fell back into the hellish chaos that was her mind. She looked at Phlox, at the damage she had done, the pain she had inflicted. Her eyes watered, a cross between a sob and a moan escaped her mouth. She looked at the Commander, Trip, he was sweating from the mere effort of holding himself upright, and all the while he was staring into her eyes. The simple facial expression he wore communicated more than words ever could. His eyes conveying every emotion, he was pleading with her. Pleading for her to reign in her emotions, to control herself like the Vulcan she was. Yet despite his pleas, and despite her willingness, she couldn't. She found herself unable to comply, her feelings remained unchecked, and she felt the burning tears begin to flow down her face.

Phlox staggered to his feet, unaided by his broken wrists, the task proved somewhat of a challenge. If not T'pol, he had to get at least the Commander in working condition, otherwise this ship would remain a mental asylum until some passer by decided it would look better broken in half. That is, if they all didn't kill each other first. Phlox bit off a strip of medical cloth, clenching down on it experimentally with his teeth. To use a human idiom, this was gonna hurt like a bitch.

Trip vaguely stirred to consciousness, T'pol was sleeping curled up on the floor, her face wet with what looked like tears. And Phlox was, well Phlox was leaning over him, he realized with a start, before he remembered that they weren't trying to kill each other anymore. The Denobulan also had a white cloth in his mouth, and was making some strange noises. Why the hell would that- oh yeah, he realized with a mental smack, T'pol had gone crazy. And here was Phlox, apparently using his broken wrists to handle a bunch of medical tools. Shit, you had to admire this guy's dedication.


	3. Chapter 3

As Trip's thoughts quickly became more coherent, he was surprised to find his strength mostly returned. And that brought him back to Phlox, who had just finished running over him with that scanner, held using his broken wrist.

As soon as Phlox was remotely satisfied, he dropped the equipment to the ground, gasping back tears as he winced again at the pain. The human was sitting up now, and it was about damn time to, his hands felt like a Rigellian Ox had trampled them. "Phlox, ar-" The doctor couldn't help but interrupt him, "Commander, if you please?" he brandished his wrists, biting back bile as the pain intensified.

"Oh um, yeah of course." He stammered, wondering why the Denobulan had put himself through such agony, but he knew it couldn't just be for his Hippocratic Oath, or whatever the Denobulan equivalent was.

Phlox flinched repeatedly as the Commander, wrapping a brace around his wrist, wasn't being too gentle. "Sorry Doc, never been too good at this". The human muttered apologetically, as he methodically tightened the brace. Phlox didn't respond, just clamped his mouth shut, least he say anything offensive to the young human. Gritting his teeth, he had to put his plan into action, they were running out of time. "Commander, it is imperative that you listen to me." He paused briefly, making sure he had his attention. "I believe I have found a method that would successfully "un-craze" all the crewmembers."

Trip's ears perked up, "but-"

"Commander! You must let me finish. It will require you to take control of the ship's ventilation systems, can you do that?"

Trip's eyes narrowed in thought, "As long as my security codes are still valid, I should be able to re-route power of _**all**_ major systems from auxiliary control". He paused again, shaking his head. "That won't work Phlox, if Reeds half as paranoid as he looks, he'd have found a way to change my codes by now. And he's not stupid either, I'm willing to bet he's got guards all around that area."

"Commander we have officially ran out of options, if we are going to save the lives of over 80 crewmembers we need to act now!" Phlox was sweating, his exertion finally catching up to him. He spoke in a calmer voice, "Commander, if you do not accomplish this, it will be no different, we will all die anyway. But I am imploring you, just try, no one else can. The only other sane person on this ship is me, and I'm practically useless until you gain control of the ship."

Trip sighed, running a hand through his hair, he really didn't have much options. "Okay, what the hell, it's our only shot and I'll take it." He sighed again, this job really sucked. "Just tell me what I have to do"…

Meanwhile on Romulus:

V'hlas was not a patient man. The constant bickering of the High Council was beginning to seriously grate on his nerves. All the debates over whether or not to obliterate the humans, were actually progressing evenly. The fools didn't realize the potential threat, if not from the earthlings, than the Founders. V'hlas shivered, the Founders could easily find a new pawn to do their dirty work. And with all the _**ethical debates**_, he spat on the ground, what was to stop the founders from destroying Romulus? He looked over the vast collection of buildings, standing atop his balcony. Looked down at the pride of Romulus, filled with simpering idiots. He took a deep breath, it appeared he would have to take matters into his own hands…


	4. Chapter 4

Trip stalked down the corridors of Enterprise, keeping an eye out for any of Reeds thugs. He didn't like leaving Phlox and T'pol defenseless, but in the end it made sense that he should take the phase pistol. Well, it would only be useful for about five shots, he calculated, glancing at the charge meter. And after that, well, after that he'd probably be screwed anyway. _**Shit!**_ Turning a corner Trip spied about, four or five, something around there, crewman. All huddled together, arguing over something. Quickly ducking back behind the bulkhead, he checked his phasers charge, he already knew what it was, but anxiety had a way of playing with the brain. Maybe he should take the T'pol approach, just order them to stand down. And at this, despite their dire situation, he couldn't help but let out a small chuckle. He heard footsteps approaching. Stepping back and raising his phaser, he mentally cursed out that stupid ass laugh he just _couldn't _contain. The footsteps reached him, "Hess?". He spoke quietly and carefully, not wanting to start anything here. But right in front of him was his second in command, just standing there, an evil leer distorting her features. Ensign Rostov stepped in behind her, followed by a whole gang of crazy mother fuckers. "Oh", now Trip was really scared, he started to back up, slowly at first. But as he turned around fully he began to sprint like a goddamned cheetah, focused only on getting the hell out of there. The shouts and threats followed him, chasing after him like a horde of crazy-, well, that's actually what they were, so yeah.

He kept running for a couple minutes, hell, it could've been a couple hours, he sure as fuck wasn't keeping track. But then, at the end of the corridor, there were more than just a few people. There was a whole other mob just waiting for him. Damn, these guys were smarter than they looked. But just as he took a sharp turn to the right, hoping to sidetrack that little present. The pounding footsteps didn't follow him, and pausing for a moment to catch his breath, he looked around and was astounded. The two gangs had ran straight into a battlefield, and were presently walloping the bejeezes out of each other. Astounded, but not about to waste this small favor, Trip Tucker turned back around, and got the fuck up outta there…

Meanwhile on Vulcan:

High Priest Sarpok was 170 years old. However unlike others, age had left him wizened. In his day he had seen the worst atrocities, and the greatest achievements. After years of deliberation and meditating, he had reached what some consider the perfect balance of logic. Although while being revered, there were those who looked down upon him for his emotional indulgence, claiming he was not fit to be the leading Priest on all of Vulcan. Yet despite these grievances, Sarpok did not harbor negative thoughts over them, or any other thing that existed. He realized that no situation can be observed with perfect objectivity, and if it can, who is to be the judge? All things exist with a purpose, whether it be for good or bad, or both. And who are we to pass judgment over anything? Opinions are natural, they are what drives our motives. But to speak for someone's purpose, that requires a certain arrogance, which unfortunately would be present in most everyone of every species, including Vulcans.

And it was here, in the depths of Mt. Seleya, that High Priest Sarpok was granting an audience with the Head Council member of the High Command, T'pau.

The hinges on the heavy door squeaked loudly, as T'pau stepped inside the chamber. Sarpok appeared to be meditating, his legs crossed and eyes closed. "High Priest" she addressed, bowing her head slightly.

The Position Sarpok held was perhaps more prestigious than that of any other Vulcan, and so required a level of respect not given to any other Vulcan. He did not deem it necessary, however he would not go so far as to say so. "Welcome child", although being his age, his voice reverberated all over the room. Presenting a strength not characterized by his frail appearance.

"I require guidance".

Sarpok did not respond, leaving it to her to state her dilemma.

"The humans are in danger, we believe the Romulans are planning an invasion".

He still had not opened his eyes. "And what is it that requires guidance child?"

"Some on the council do not believe we should aid the humans, that ties with Romulus are more logical."

Sarpok considered this, mind not at all phased by the shocking news he had just received. "And what decision do you require of me?"

She breathed deeply, "Your support, that we should preserve our alliance with Earth, it is the only ethical choice."

"Ethics are a fine line child, and I will not pass judgment on this situation." His final words said, he slipped back into meditation.

As T'pau's footsteps faded, Sarpok was left to question, for the first time, his logic…


	5. Chapter 5

Trip, coming up on the entrance to auxiliary control, slowed his pace. Not wanting to attract any unwelcome attention, he tried to minimize the sound of his footsteps, trailing carefully up the corridor. Reaching the door, he keyed in the security code, heart stopping cold as he waited for its response. To his immense relief the door swished open, revealing the room filled with computers and all sorts of technology on all sides. There was a single chair in the center, and for some reason it filled him with apprehension. Of all the things in the room, the goddamned chair is what worried him the most. He shook his head, part irritation, part amusement. Lowering himself into the seat, he took a deep breath. Preparing for what would either be a successful solution or a horrible failure, ending with his death. No, don't think like that, he told himself. You've made it this far, ain't no reason you can't finish the job.

Now, he would probably only have a couple minutes to bypass the security measures before Reed realized what he was doing and shut him out. But hopefully that would be all the time he needed. Bringing up the window he quickly typed in another of his passwords, he was about to press the Enter button when the door behind him swooshed open. A red blast of energy hit the spot next to the keyboard as he whipped around pulling up his phaser, which was promptly knocked out of his hands. Reed slugged him on the cheek, as Trip shoved him to the ground, the phase pistol than knocked out of Reed's hand. They both struggled, jabbing each other whenever the opportunity presented itself, neither really gaining the upper hand until Reed knocked him across the nose. The resulting crack left Trip lying on the floor dazed. He tried to get up, but quickly fell back down. As Reed aimed the phaser, Trip's last thought was that it would have been nice to look at kinder face on his death bed.

However, that was before a beam of energy propelled into Reed, T'pol standing behind him with a phase rifle and a really pissed off expression. Groping at the table, Trip pulled himself up just as Reed slumped to the ground. Slapping down on the Enter key, a green light ensued, presenting his granted access. Trip, now in complete control of all ship systems, followed Phlox's directions to the letter. And just as he pressed the key that would save the ship, a smoke colored gas was issued from the ventilation system. Knocking him, and everyone else on the ship, unconscious.

Aboard the Romulan vessel T'sut:

V'hlas strode into the laboratory unannounced, passing by the cowering scientists. He stopped when he reached the current experiment, so weak, and yet decisively essential to his plan. It had resisted at first, but was tamed quickly enough. There were tubes connected all over his body, pumping chemicals throughout his bloodstream. V'hlas wasn't sure exactly what all of them did, but the scientists assured him they would have the desired results. And they had better hope that they do, or it would be their lives on the line.

Its eyes were opening slowly, a perfectly blank expression on his face. "What is your name human?" It didn't answer immediately, formulating a response as it stared expressionlessly at the ceiling. "Archer", "Whom do you serve?" It looked directly into his eyes now, "I serve Romulus"…


	6. Chapter 6

48 hours after losing consciousness, the crew had already woken up with a hell of a headache, and thankfully had resumed their regular command structure once again. With major repairs almost finished, Commander Tucker and Sub-Commander T'pol had thought it wise to contact Starfleet Command, advising them of their situation.

The screen saver of Starfleet's insignia was soon replaced with Admiral Forrest's image. His glare had a way of zipping through the screen and smacking your face off. Trip was not looking forward to the barrage, and it was **definitely** forthcoming. "Commander, would you explain to me exactly what the _hell _is going on!" He addressed Trip, as if purposely ignoring the Vulcan right beside him. "Um" He glanced at T'pol, looking for something to shield him from the visage before him. "Commander, we have been trying to contact the Enterprise for five days, now where is Captain Archer!" Gulping nervously, Trip forced himself to look directly at Forrest, "Admiral, well a lot happened and-, that is I-." He took a breath, "Well the Captains sort of missing sir". Trip cringed at the explosion that followed, but thankfully it died down soon enough.

"What does sort of missing mean Commander?" There was a deadly edge to his voice.

"I believe the Commander is referring to the alleged capturing and or killing of Captain Archer, Admiral."

Trip nodded his thanks, thankful for not having to fully explain that part. Kind of direct and simple, but he guessed that was the best way to break it to the Admiral, considering you'd get shot either way.

The discussion continued for some time, T'pol giving a brief report on the events that had transpired. Trip gratefully walked past the edge of the screen, waiting for his part of the orders.

"Commander,"

"Yes Admiral?"

Forrest paused, considering something as he glanced down at a file in his hand. "Commander, I am hereby placing you in command of the Enterprise until further notice."

Trip couldn't help it, he gaped, whole face registering shock. "With all due respect Sir, I believe T'pol is most qualified, I mean, she is the first officer, Sir."

For once, the Admiral's face relaxed into a non-aggressive stance. "I understand this is a large step Commander, and whatever command abilities you lack, the sub-commander can provide I assume."

T'pol nodded her confirmation.

"However the Sub-Commander is not Starfleet, and even if she was there wouldn't be much support for a Vulcan running our only ship."

His face hardened again. "You don't need to be a Captain, Tucker, and as far as I'm concerned you're not."

Trip wasn't exactly sure how to feel about that. On one side he was kinda pissed at that downright disrespect, even from a superior officer. But on the other hand, he was relieved to be only a figurehead. That really took a lot off his back, stuff which he sure as hell couldn't handle.

"Your first orders are to report as soon as possible to Earth Commander".

Trip resisted the temptation to correct him on the rank, probably wouldn't pay off to be a smartass to the Admiral.

"Is there something wrong Sir?"

Forrest grimaced, "We don't know anything for positive, but there's definitely something going on, the Vulcans have pulled almost all their dignitaries off of Earth, and ships all around the quadrant are getting the hell out our sector as fast as their engines will take them, we need to be prepared, whatever it is."

Trip just nodded, frowning, "Yes sir, we'll be there-" he glanced at T'pol.

"We will arrive at Earth in approximately 2.43 days." Came her response in customary Vulcan precision.

"Acknowledged, Forrest out."


	7. Chapter 7

T'pol was once again her astute, logical self. The Doctors cure had reinstated her emotional control, she was able to function without hindrances from all the insignificant needles she had been plagued by. In fact, she might go as far as to say that she was having an emotional response to her freedom of emotions. And the fact that she contained enough sarcasm to successfully form that thought concerned her greatly.

Right now, however, she had to process the result of Forrest's orders.

T'pol did not approve of the Admiral's decision, it achieved its means through deceit and politics. However, she did suppose it had a certain, demented, logic to it. Tucker would be able to appeal to the crew, being human. However he would still benefit from insight garnered by more experienced individuals, such as herself. But by placing an inexperienced officer in command of the entire vessel, there was a substantial amount of risk involved. Just one hasty or thoughtless command could put the lives of everyone aboard in jeopardy, not to mention anyone else involved.

She sat in the Command chair, the newly appointed Captain was working overtime in engineering, so as the ship would reach Earth in prime condition.

"Sub-Commander, there's a message coming in for you from Vulcan." Ensign Sato had recovered well enough, her trauma having mostly been temporary, however she was still attending counseling sessions with Dr. Phlox.

"Send it to the ready room, Ensign"

"Yes Sub-Commander".

T'pol was technically clueless as to the subject of this communique, however she did have her suspicions about the general idea…

T'pol observed, the Head Counsel member T'pau, was staring back at her. Both retained their logical appearances, although each had their reasons for an emotional outburst. T'pol was staring face to face with the head of her government, a woman who had and was still leading Vulcan through a successful era of peace and commerce. A person to be revered to say the least.

T'pau, however, was to be the bearer of bad news.

"Sub-Commander, forgive my lack of etiquette, however we have more pressing matters to attend to."

T'pol nodded, hastily regaining her control. "Of course First Minister". If T'pol didn't know better, she would say T'pau was beginning to fidget in her seat.

"Sub-Commander, Vulcan is in the process of breaking all affiliation with the Humans." She paused, giving T'pol a minute to process that. Which she evidently accomplished exceedingly fast, given her facial expression.

"Is that wise Minister?" T'pol couldn't help but be skeptical over what reason Vulcan would have to end a successful relation with Earth overnight.

T'pau's face creased ever so slightly, but on a Vulcan that mishap signified a severe breach of control, a warning of the turmoil warring through her mind. "Whether or not I agree with the decision is of no relevance, it has the council's full support. Vulcan will proceed in its alienation of Earth and all of it's colonies."

T'pau stopped, seeming to "size up" the Sub-Commander for the third time. "I wish that it was not necessary to do this Sub-Commander, however you are required, as a Vulcan citizen, not to repeat these words to anyone except Vulcan officials such as myself."

T'pol's eyes narrowed slightly, the First Minister was asking, no, _demanding,_ that she partake in whatever scheme she was planning. And she would have no choice but to oblige, as a Vulcan citizen.

"I understand, First Minister."

T'pau seemed satisfied with this answer, and as she continued to explain the nature of this assignment, T'pol couldn't help but feel an uneasy sensation in the pit of her stomach… 


	8. Chapter 8

Trip sighed, it was inevitable, he guessed. The repairs had gotten to the point where he wasn't essential, leaving him with the only option of heading to the bridge, and taking command of Archer's ship. He couldn't help but think of it as that, this ship was intended to be captained by the most qualified Starfleet officer, and here he was, a southern engineer with no knowledge or experience in commanding, well, anything really. He could handle his engineering staff, that much he could do. But being responsible for over 80 men and women? He could only hope, as he made his way to the turbo-lift, that Starfleet would have found a suitable replacement by the time they arrived…

"Captain, Earth is coming into sensor range."

"Acknowledged Ensign, hail Starfleet Command, -"

"Captain!" Travis Mayweather franticly keyed in several buttons, his eyes were wide, an incredulous expression on his face. "Captain! It's Earth!"

"What'a you mean its Earth Ensign?" Trip had come over to stand at the helmsman's shoulder, looking at the consoles display. In no time at all his eyes had gone wide to, "Hoshi, are you getting any hails, distress calls, anything?"

"I'm not sure I understand Sir, th-"

"_**ANYTHING**_ Ensign!"

Hoshi franticly pressed the earpiece back into it position, pressing buttons with precision. "No Captain, nothing."

Trip frowned at the viewscreen, as Earth appeared a miniscule dot. "Magnify Ensign"

The action was quickly completed, leaving everyone on the bridge gaping.

Trip felt a surging panic, mixed with disbelief and fear. "All senior staff report to the bridge" Trip was still staring wide eyed at the viewer. "We've got a problem"…

Earth, as shown on the viewscreen, was currently being bombarded by a fleet of Romulan warbirds. The surface of the planet was slowly morphing into a rocky rubble. Even up in space the swaths of destruction could be seen, changing the once pristine marble into a discolored asteroid.

"People we need ideas and we definitely need them fast".

"Captain, with all due respect, Enterprise couldn't stand up to _**one**_ of those ships. How are we supposed to deal with a whole fleet?" Reed hated to be the one who gave up, but right now he didn't see much of an alternative. Looking at the remaining pieces of the sphere, all he wanted to do was charge into battle, to defend his planet. Unfortunately, from a tactical officer's point of view, that was purely not an option.

"Captain, I've lost helm control."

Trip resisted the urge to tell him to calm down, the man's fucking planet was being destroyed, how the hell could he justify reprimanding him? "What happened Ensign?"

"I'm not sure Sir! It just, it jus-"

"I have assumed command of this vessel."

That sure as hell brought everyone around, turning as T'pol stepped off the turbo-lift.

Before anyone could get a word in, she resumed speaking. "I regret the necessity of this action, however I am under direct orders to escort the Enterprise to the rendezvous point."

"T'pol what the hell are you talking about!?"

T'pol observed the human coolly, "I am presently in control of all ship systems, you would be wise to recognize that Captain."


End file.
